英文原版 Midnight's Children 午夜之子 萨尔曼·鲁西迪 布克奖得主 英文版 进口英语原版书籍
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￥ 65 ￥ 65 九五品
库存57件
四川成都
认证卖家担保交易快速发货售后保障
作者Rushdie, Salman
出版社Vintage Classic
ISBN9780099511892
出版时间2021-04
装帧平装
定价65元
货号YB-3740
上书时间2024-04-30
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书名：Midnight's Children午夜之子 难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数1120L 作者：Salman Rushdie 出版社名称：Vintage Classics 出版时间：2008 语种：英文 ISBN：9780099511892 商品尺寸：12.9 x 3.4 x 19.8 cm 包装：平装 页数：672 ★20世纪能够媲美《百年孤独》的魔幻现实主义巨作，获得“年度十大好书”第1名，被誉为“英语世界罕见的完美小说”。 ★本书三次获得布克奖：1981年获布克奖；1993年，荣获为纪念布克奖设置25周年而颁发的 “特别布克奖”；2008年，又获为纪念布克奖设置40周年特设的“zui佳布克奖”。 ★作者萨曼·鲁西迪（又译萨尔曼·拉什迪），被誉为“后殖民文学教父”，受君特格拉斯、米兰昆德拉、莫言等文学大师一致推崇的传奇作家。他创作力极其旺盛，作品叫好也叫座，几乎每部作品都是布克奖的热门候选者。 Midnight's Children《午夜之子》是叙述者庞杂而嘲讽的自传，同时也是一部文学的印度现代史。作者以他丰富而狂野的想象力，呈现了南亚光荣与恶兼具的纷繁面向：这块神秘次大陆及其人民的生活、命运、梦想和无奈。 全书充满《一千零一夜》式的神秘巧合，秉承印度史诗的叙事风骨，比《铁皮鼓》更炫的魔幻色彩，比《百年孤独》情节曲折、可读性强。从一个普通人的人生经历到一个时代的动乱变革，从古老印度的梵天诸神到现代印度甘地夫人的政治团体，从印巴分治的历史真实到充斥预言、征兆、特异功能的虚幻世界，一个现实与虚构、艺术与真实、讽刺与批判奇异共存的文学世界，构建了20世纪世界文学的一道独异风景。 媒体评论： “这一代人英语世界出版的重要的书籍之一”——《纽约书评》 “印度对英语小说出色的贡献”——《伦敦书评》 “自从阅读过《百年孤独》以来，还从来没其他小说像它这样令人惊叹。”——《泰晤士报》 “它是一本让我骄傲的书，我为它在文学史上为自己找到的位置骄傲。也是在这本书中，我找到了自己作为一个作家的声音，这是真的。”——作者萨曼·鲁西迪 Born at the stroke of midnight at the exact moment of India's independence, Saleem Sinai is a special child. However, this coincidence of birth has consequences he is not prepared for: telepathic powers connect him with 1,000 other 'midnight's children' all of whom are endowed with unusual gifts. Inextricably linked to his nation, Saleem's story is a whirlwind of disasters and triumphs that mirrors the course of modern India at its most impossible and glorious. Review "One of the most important books to come out of the English-speaking world in this generation" (The New York Review of Books) 很久很久以前，在古阿拉伯的萨桑王国，宰相的女儿山鲁佐德，每天夜里给国王山努亚讲故事，故事一个接着一个，一直讲了一千零一夜……在这“一千零一夜”的故事流传了差不多一千零一年后（也许实际年头比一千零一长很多），一个印度穆斯林家庭出身的年轻人，在身体一天一天干裂、生命即将告终的境况下，开始讲述一个漫长的故事，一个和“一千零一”有关的故事。 故事的开头是这样的：富家少年阿达姆?阿齐兹，有个硕大的鼻子，他的朋友说：“你简直可以把你这个鼻子架在水上过河了。”这个长着大鼻子的医生，不是故事的主人公，却伴随着故事的始终。他的与他没有血缘关系的外孙也有一个大鼻子；这个也有大鼻子的外孙子就是这个讲故事的人。 他的故事，是关于一千零一个孩子的故事。这一千零一个孩子出生在1947年8月15日——印度独立日——的午夜前后。这一千零一个孩子或多或少具有某种魔力，有的相貌平平却能让人不顾一切爱上自己，有的天生就具有泰戈尔一样的诗才，有的漂亮得惊艳，有的能在水中随意变性，有的能够从地球上任何可以反射的表面自如进出，有的能随意使身体变大或者缩小，有的说话能对别人造成肉体的伤害，有的能吃金属……这些午夜出生的孩子，由大鼻子娃娃萨里姆组织，在他的大脑里进行过一次次的午夜聚会。这些带着魔力的午夜之子，“是这个时代的孩子”，“是历史播下的种子”，伴随着新生的国家，他们经历了种种磨难，走向了毁灭…… 萨尔曼·鲁西迪（Sir Salman Rushdie） 爵士，1947年6月19日出生于印度孟买，中文名又译为萨尔曼·拉什迪，十四岁移居英国读书。其作品风格往往被归类为魔幻写实主义，作品显示出东西方文化的双重影响。1981年发表的《午夜之子》被视为他的代表作，获得当年的布克奖，并且在2008年被评为“布克奖40周年作品”。2007年，他因在文学上的成就，被英女王册封为爵士。2008年他入选《泰晤士报》评选的“1945年以来50位伟大的英国作家”榜单，排名第十三。 Salman Rushdie is the author of eight novels, one collection of short stories, and four works of non-fiction, and the co-editor of The Vintage Book of Indian Writing. In 1993 Midnight's Children was judged to be the 'Booker of Bookers', the best novel to have won the Booker Prize in its first 25 years. The Moor's Last Sigh won the Whitbread Prize in 1995, and the European Union's Aristeion Prize for Literature in 1996. He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and a Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres. I was born in the city of Bombay… once upon a time. No, that won’t do, there’s no getting away from the date: I was born in Doctor Narlikar’s Nursing Home on August 15th, 1947. And the time? The time matters, too. Well then: at night. No, it’s important to be more… On the stroke of midnight, as a matter of fact. Clock-hands joined palms in respectful greeting as I came. Oh, spell it out, spell it out: at the precise instant of India’s arrival at independence, I tumbled forth into the world. There were gasps. And, outside the window, fireworks and crowds. A few seconds later, my fattier broke his big toe; but his accident was a mere trifle when set besidewhat had befallen me in that benighted moment, because thanks to the occult tyrannies of those blandly saluting clocks I had been mysteriously handcuffed to history, my destinies indissolubly chained to those of my country. For the next three decades, there was tobe no escape. Soothsayers had prophesied me, newspapers celebrated my arrival, politicos ratified my authenticity. I was left entirely without a say in the matter. I, Saleem Sinai, later variously called Snotnose, Stainface, Baldy, Sniffer, Buddha and even Piece-of-the-Moon, had become heavily embroiled in Fate — at the best of times a dangerous sort of involvement. And I couldn’t even wipe my own nose at the time. Now, however, time (having no further use for me) is running out. I will soonbe thirty-one years old. Perhaps. If my crumbling, over-used body permits. But I have no hope of saving my life, nor can I count on having even a thousand nights and a night. I must work fast, faster than Scheherazade, if I am to end up meaning — yes, meaning — something. I admit it: above all things, I fear absurdity. And there are so many stories to tell, too many, such an excess of intertwined lives events miracles places rumours, so dense a commingling of the improbable and the mundane! I have been a swallower of lives; and to know me, just the one of me, you’11 have to swallow the lot as well. Consumed multitudes arc jostling and shoving inside me; and guided only by the memory of a large white bedsheet with a roughly circular hole some seven inches in diameter cur into the centre, clutching at the dream of that holey, mutilated square of linen, which is my talisman, my open-sesame, I must commence the business of remaking my life from the point at which it really began, some thirty-two years before anything as obvious, as present, as my clock-ridden, crime-stained birth. 1234567
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